Red Thread
by witheringtoviolet
Summary: 67 cups of coffee, a box of creme, and a lemon pound cake. Joey the talented barista, why is it that just one cup of Seto Kaiba's coffee had a disgusting red thread inside of it? JouxSeto R


**Author's Note:** Feeling bold. How long has it been? It's kind of funny that I'm writing this. But I'm in such mood no one can destroy. This 'suffering' from my own love has been poured onto this fic. Enjoy.

Red Thread

The one morning you wake up in. The one morning where you look outside your window and it still feels like midnight. The one morning that's piss cold and freezing, the one morning you just don't want to meet. It was that kind of morning I stood before at seven a.m. The red scarf around me was keeping my neck warm, but it wasn't enough. The tight jeans couldn't completely wrap my hands inside its pockets and the annoying wind kept blowing in my bloody face. Did you ever stop to think that?

I mean, where does all this snot come from?

My jean jacket wasn't warming me up either. Just heavy on my shoulders and it wasn't even fair- I only had a plain tee shirt underneath. Finally I took out a cigarette from my butt pocket and managed to grab my lighter from my tight jean pocket. The fire won't even lit. It was that piss cold.

After hurting my thumb, I finally managed to take one puff.

My throat kind of burned, but it felt good.

I love smoking in the morning.

I continued to walk.

Half asleep, I was having a lucid dream of the café with the heater on. Then I soon remembered- I was closing the store today. Without a doubt, today was literally going to suck ass.

Happy thoughts Joey, happy thoughts, think only happy thoughts.

I finally managed to think of the aroma of a sweet Columbian decaf. Maybe hazelnut today, with pure brown sugar, or even mocha sounds good. Hell, I'm even thinking black.

After inhaling my last breath, I started to run.

Energy provides me heat, right? Run away from this world maybe, run away from this shit cold and these sarcastic winds that just slap my face now and then. I wanted to run as fast as I can, but these smoker lungs just didn't let me. But I was lucky that the café was so nearby my house.

"Good morning guys."

I coughed as I greeted the two people nearby the counter. They answered with a simple 'yo' back. It was a busy morning and all the customers looked at me with a shy smile. I smiled back, taking off my jacket- welcoming this soft, artificial air into myself. I noticed the third customer looking at the bakery with questioning looks. But the counter was busy with drinks so I casually walked up to him.

"Our coffee cake is simply magical." I tried to help out.

He looked a bit surprised, and in a way, uncomfortable to this whole thing. What was the whole thing anyway? A good, vintage café? But anyways. He was in a great, black suit and was still wearing his shades. They were so dark you couldn't really tell where he was looking at. Even his necktie was black, like he was on his way to some funeral. But he looked pretty good in it.

"Oh. Yes. But is it sweet? I can't- I just can't get something sweet."

"It is pretty sweet. Hm, how about our lemon pound cake? Great with any coffee." I poked at it, the yellow bread gently placed on top of each other on a crisp, white plate.

He nodded with a smile, now, with satisfaction.

"Hey, get the lemon pound," I told the counter. "And your drink, sir?"

"Uh- yeah, 67 cups of coffee please, and can I get a _box_ of French vanilla crème?"

What the hell is this guy saying?

67... cups of coffee?

Oh shit. In about two minutes, these two guys' shifts were going to be over.

I have to pour out 67 cups of coffee.

Are you _shitting_ me?

"Uh- sir. Can you..."

"Next customer please!"

I swear, nobody likes me or something. The world just hates me.

"Can you wait? L-Let me get my apron, I'll get your 66, I mean 67 cups."

"Great. How much is that?"

"Uhh- I believe, that it's going to be-"

"It's going to be $258.67, sir."

Right. You know how much it is you bastard. Clicking some numbers on the register isn't that hard now, is it?

"All right. Perfect."

I rolled my eyes. I needed another cigarette. As I came out from the back room, with my apron on this time, the two guys were gone with all the rest of the customers except the man that ordered those stupid 67 cups.

First I took out the box of crème and handed it to him.

He grabbed it and whispered an "I'll be back" and I just simply watched him walk out.

I wasn't even sure if the coffee maker even brewed that much coffee yet, but I took out a cigarette, even though I wasn't supposed to, and started pouring out the coffee.

The man walked in and out, taking four cups at once, taking them somewhere and coming back in. Believe it or not, this took a little over an hour. He paid with cash, and waved at me with a great smile. I didn't want to say it, but I did.

"Come again soon."

He walked out with the last cups and for a while, no body else came in for another hour or so.

I was drinking my own coffee in the counter and smoking another cigarette when I heard the door ring its little bell. I ran to the sink and quickly threw the cigarette away, then walking casually to the counter. I saw a tall man enter, with a great black coat in seemed. He was a brunette. Real tall. With some black shades on. Like the ones that 67 coffee guy was wearing. He came on to the counter, quite quickly actually. It was scary. But anyways I smiled and welcomed him.

"What would you like?" I gently smiled at the serious looking man.

"I would like you to take off your damn scarf." He took off his shades, glaring at me with these _cursing_ blue eyes. I mean, what did I ever do to him? He thinks he couldn't just burst in here and tell me to take off my scarf? Lay off old man.

_"Excuse me?"_

"My coffee. My 67 cups of coffee. Why is it that just only mine, had a _disgusting_ red thread in my coffee?"

Oh.

That explains a lot.

Shit.

"Oh, I'm-I'm terribly sorry. If you'd like, I can make you another cup of-"

"I don't want your dirty coffee. I want you to repay me."

"Alright. Your coffee was $3.25 sir."

"No, you're not understanding me, _dog._ My 67 cups of coffee and that bloody box of crème."

"What about the lemon cake? I'm completely joking. Haha?" He didn't even laugh. He didn't even blink, for hell.

"Sir, I can't do that. I'm not the manager, but I can pay for _YOUR_ cup of coffee."

"Alright. Pay my 67 cups of coffee and that box of crème."

That phrase was becoming quite famous now.

"Well, just _YOURS_, I said."

"I'm a busy man. I don't have time to play your little puppy games. If you don't, I'll sue this place."

"_WHAT?_ NO. Look, stop calling me puppy in the first place and maybe we can get this settled."

"Look, mutt. If you don't pay my money back, I can get this place demolished by tonight. Understood? If your have any, and I mean, any concerns at all-" He pulled out a card in his inside pocket of his coat. "Come here at 9."

And he walked out.

* * *

Haha, I haven't written in so long. This sounds horrible. Well it's a good ol' **JouxSeto** once again fans.. heh. R&R pleaseeee. 


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